


From the dusk till dawn

by BluePumpkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, OOC, and i still can't tag it properly, but porn too I assure you, dreamcatcher AU no one has asked for, more feelings than porn, set somewhere before S13 and after Revolution of the Daleks, the Master is hurt, two old dumbos are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePumpkin/pseuds/BluePumpkin
Summary: "Baby, this is devil's door"After an accident, the Master has insufferable dreams. The Doctor is here to tame his chaos.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	From the dusk till dawn

**Author's Note:**

> So, here I go with my first smut. I wanted it to be 100% PWP, but I'm soft
> 
> Title and quote in summary are from Siren Song by MARUV, feels 100% Thoschei if you ask me
> 
> As usual, feel free to DM me any spelling/grammar mistakes you find :)

_"Master"_ , she whispers in disbelief as she finds him unconscious on yet another planet in war. Of course. Where is war, there's always him — plotting, speculating, planting chaos with every step.

His clothes are ripped here and there, purple of his coat washed to dirty grey in a few spots, and his head is definitely bleeding. Uh-oh, she thinks, maybe the TARDIS won't be mad if she brings him aboard to heal some wounds.

One day, he finally wakes up and wishes he didn't - every time he drifts off to sleep in the TARDIS' recovery unit, he is chased by nasty and horrible, even by his standards, dreams - and he dies in each of them.

 _"Master"_ , she says firmly, in a warning manner, as he tries to break into the TARDIS' storage room where all the grenades and other harmful equipment are kept. There are days when TARDIS won't let even the Doctor in this particular room, let alone giving the Master a chance to create some nasty weapons. No, neither the ship nor the Doctor care that he wants to “have fun” - and only the Master knows this aching need for destruction when his head slowly kills him.

Eventually, he decides to play by Doctor's rules for a bit. He's lost his TARDIS' homing device, and staying in Doctor's one is not his worst choice, especially now that her pets are not around anymore.

 _"Master"_ , she growls under her breath as he wears his mischievous grin while approaching her slowly in the console room. It’s been solid few months they’ve been drifting in space, so she’s not sure if he wants to kill her, kiss her, or both. It’s been solid few months, and who still cares about time? They perfectly deserve each other: like a bright pulsar washing everything near in atomic fire, he bathes her in his tempered rage, in the darkness that he feeds her telepathically every night in his dreams. Like a solar wind, she neutralizes his every painful memory in dark corners of his mind. A remedy for each other, they’d been healing themselves. 

Sometimes she wonders how long it will take for him to give up and finally take her, just like he did in their earlier lives.

It turns out, time is a very relative matter.

 _“Master”_ , she whispers absent-mindedly, as he leaves a wet kiss just under her ear. And then another few, trailing along her jaw. She clutches the sheet of the bed in his bedroom, not sure if she can keep on sitting on the corner with his knee between her legs and his hands exploring her sides.

He smells like home – the smell of free wind and ashes, she bitterly realizes. She wants more of this, more of him, more of their bittersweet touches that burn in her mind and on her skin. He hastily removes his waistcoat, and his shirt is just about to follow when she suddenly gets up and does it for him, button after the sodding button (why there are so many of them?). The Master chuckles as he feels her desperation to feel more, her aching need to be as physically close to him as she can.

And he gives her what she wants, whispering how hard he will have her, teasing how he wants to hear his name coming out of her needy mouth, grasping at her breasts eagerly right after the moment they’re freed from her T-shirt.

 _“Master”_ , the Doctor moans when she reaches her boiling point and clenches around his tongue. He had always been so good with it, and the last few minutes felt like she traveled through a star – burning, collapsing and desperate. The Master knew his moves – every time he touched her swollen clit with his tongue, every time he moved it broadly against her folds he was awarded whimpers and moans. It took him only a few hot minutes to make her scream his name – a sound that could drive him insane better than drums in his head did once.

He laughs, not even caring to lift himself up from between her legs. If this counts as destruction, then he’s willing to spare a few planets.

 _“Master”_ , she yells as he fucks her from behind, one hand grasping her shoulder and the other working on her clit in steady movements. This is all too familiar to him, too good to be true and yet he’s there, savouring every noise her body makes underneath him, including her racing heartbeats. The heat is insufferable, and for the moment Master thinks this is it for him, his personal perfect hell, torturing and yet so right. He thinks of stars burning inside her head as he releases inside her with a low, almost animalistic growl. 

He digs his nails in her arms as waves of delight wash over him, one after another. He knows there will be bruises – it’s their collateral damage, after all, their Paris, and god knows she likes it when he lets himself go like that or even more.

 _“Master”_ , she smiles when he drifts off to sleep, his naked body clutched around her as his life depends on it. Defenseless and exposed, he looks so peaceful. But the Doctor can feel his dreams coming, his mad, perfect chaos invading her own mind. She lets it all in like she did all those nights before, his painful memories and sorrow bursting into the single door she had opened in her mind to forever be closed even for her. In exchange, she projects the best she can find in her messy head – memories of orange skies and their infinite nights together, always so challenging, and so bittersweet. 

And as she remembers and projects the first time she called him by new name, the Master, she falls asleep.


End file.
